Pirates
by KatNinja
Summary: If looks could kill, Arthur would be dead five times over... SpainxEngland Elizabethan Era


_**BEFORE YOU START, JUST FYI, THERE'S HISTORICAL INFO AND SPANISH TRANSLATIONS AT THE BOTTOM IN THE AUTHOR'S NOTES!!! (Not that I think any of you will need them ;)**_

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_Pirates_

If looks could kill, Arthur would be dead five times over from the glare that Antonio was giving him. Arthur held his cutlass up to Antonio's neck.

"There's no reason to give me a look like that. I won fair and square."

"Fair and square my asno," Antonio said, his Spanish accent thick, "You snuck up on me you bastard!"

Antonio squirmed, straining his hands against the rope that held them firmly behind his back.

"I've made sure you're not going to wiggle your way out of these ropes. Not after last time."

Antonio's glare intensified and he said something in Spanish that did not sound very pleasant. Arthur smacked him across the face and walked out of the small prison that Antonio was starting to get used to. The door was slammed shut and Antonio sighed. It was starting to happen far too often that Arthur attacked his merchant ships as they returned home, full of goods. He had been getting a lot of trouble from the Dutch lately as well. He sighed again and closed his eyes. Arthur had snuck up on him in the dark, and he could tell from the fact that there was only moonlight leaking into his prison that it was still night. Soon the light rocking of the ship lulled him to sleep.

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It was almost dawn, but Arthur could not get to sleep. Not that he was trying; he gave up a long time ago.

Instead, he was sitting on the stairs in the prison and watching Antonio sleep. He had fallen over some time in between Arthur's going and returning, and was now curled up into a tight ball, shivering. After a bit a debating with himself, Arthur got up and left, closing the door quietly. He soon returned, still as quiet, this time with a blanket in hand. He placed it over Antonio and left again. It was almost dawn and he did _not_ want his crew to find him being nice to his prisoner.

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They had finally arrived in England. Antonio, even though he shouldn't have been, was secretly glad. He was so tired of being in a ship. Especially tied up and under deck in a prison. At least he could breathe now. Arthur led him through the streets, not saying a word. A few people stopped to talk to Arthur, but he just pointed at Antonio and they hurried away.

Antonio was just a bit surprised to see the small house that Arthur lived in. With all the goods that Arthur had been stealing from him, one would think that he'd have a big house. The inside wasn't all that grand either.

"Most of the money goes to Queen Elizabeth," Arthur explained, "And I'm happy in my house. I'm sorry that it's not all that impressive. You probably have a very luxurious place back home. I'm sorry that this is where you're going to have to stay while Queen Elizabeth talks to King Philip."

Antonio blinked at him in surprise.

"I'm staying here? Not at a prison?"

Arthur gave him an incredulous look that clearly wondered where Antonio had gotten that idea.

"No. Of course not. You are _Spain_ of all countries. Now if it were France…" Arthur trailed off, making vague gestures in the air. Antonio almost laughed. He may be dense sometimes, but even he knew of the many arguments that Arthur and his brother Francis had.

"Anyway," Arthur continued, untying Antonio as he spoke, "Your room is down the hall. Don't try to go sneaking off, not only will it only be a hassle for me, you'll be caught anyway. We're surrounded by water and the only way off is by boat and don't think that we won't be watching them if you escape."

Antonio nodded as Arthur led him down the hall.

"It's really late, so I'm going to bed. I don't care when you go to bed as long as you don't bother me."

Antonio nodded again and replied with,

"Okay then. Good night, England."

Arthur paused as he walked out into the hallway, his body language telling Antonio that he was indecisive about something, before Arthur said,

"Good night, Antonio."

Arthur closed the door behind him quietly and Antonio stood there for a while, watching where Arthur had stood.

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It had been about a week, and Antonio had gotten used to the small house he was staying in. He regretted not being able to go to a catholic service on Sunday, but he could not help that.

The mailman had just come by, just as he did every day, and Arthur was going through the mail. Antonio walked up to him, slightly nervous about asking this question.

Certainly Arthur would give him any mail sent to him from his home.

Right?

"England?"

Arthur tensed for a moment, before saying,

"Yes, Antonio?"

"Is there any mail for me, posiblemente?"

Arthur paused for a moment and looked the rest of the way through the mail. He looked back up at Antonio and said,

"Sorry, Antonio, but there's not any mail for you."

Antonio nodded, feeling his mood drop a bit. He smiled widely anyway, though, and thanked Arthur before walking into his room and closing the door with a quiet click.

He had been hoping that Lovino had written, although he doubted it. Lovino wasn't ever happy around Antonio, no matter what Antonio tried. He sighed, and lied on his bed, not really in the mood to do anything.

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Arthur slowly opened the letter marked to Antonio. It was obviously written by a kid in struggling Spanish. Or as far as he could tell, considering that he knew almost no Spanish, it was struggling. There were many words and sentences crossed out and rewritten. At the bottom of the last page it was signed '_Italia del Sur_'. Arthur refolded the pages and stuck them back into the envelope, which he placed in one of the drawers of his desk. He didn't know why he was keeping them from Antonio. There was no real reason to do so. There were six of them now. Obviously Lovino was worried about Antonio. Arthur knew that Antonio was dying for some news from home. But Arthur couldn't bring himself to give the letters to him.

"¡Oye! England!"

Arthur felt himself tense up. How come Antonio _insisted_ on calling him by his country name? Wouldn't Arthur just be easier?

"Yes?"

"Is there any more blankets I could use?"

Arthur stood up to help Antonio find some, wondering vaguely why he acted so strangely around him.

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"Stupid bloody gits," Arthur mumbled as he walked through the door, slamming it. Antonio, standing in the kitchen looking for something tomato-based, flinched from the sudden noise. Arthur stomped into the kitchen and threw his coat onto his chair, not even caring to look if it actually made it. Then he noticed Antonio, looking through the cabinets.

"What in bloody hell are you doing?" Arthur asked.

"I'm looking for something with tomates in it," Antonio replied.

"Why would you want something with tomatoes in it? Trying to kill yourself?"

Antonio was not going to get into an argument with Arthur today, even about tomatoes. Arthur was in too bad of a mood.

"Although I can't blame you if you are. I'm just a horrible person. Everyone must think so." Arthur's anger trailed off at the end, leaving just a soft sadness.

"England-" Antonio began, but Arthur cut him off.

"There you go again! Everyone calls me England! No one ever uses my name, not even Elizabeth! It's just 'England this' and 'England that'! How come nobody ever thinks that 'Hey, maybe England has another name!' It makes these bloody meetings with the queen and her advisers that I have to fucking go to so confusing because I never know if they're talking about me or about the fucking land!"

Antonio blinked, wondering what had brought this on.

"Not that it really matters," Arthur said, his tone turning sad again, "I mean, I'm just a pirate. There's no way I could match up to any of the nobility. And she's practically engaged already too…"

Antonio slowly walked over to Arthur, who made no attempt to move away. He gently hugged the Englishman, having an idea of just who Arthur could be referring to.

"Are you possibly," Antonio started, talking quietly, "In love with her highness, Queen Elizabeth?"

Arthur leaned into the hug, and nodded faintly, almost not wanting to admit it.

"She's 'practically engaged' to King Phillip, if I remember correctly," Antonio reflected, saying it almost as if it didn't matter. Arthur sighed.

"I know. I know, I know, I know. I wish she wasn't."

Antonio did not comment, just continued to hug Arthur.

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Arthur almost didn't open this letter. Antonio had been 'staying' in Arthur's house for a little over a month now – It was almost time for Arthur to plant his garden in the backyard – and he had been getting a letter from Lovino almost every single day. Not that Arthur had given any of them to Antonio. When he opened the letter this time, a pang of guilt flashed through him. There were tear stains throughout the letter and for a moment Arthur considered giving Antonio all the letters. But he decided against it, again, and hid this letter with the many others in his desk. He sighed and stood up, opting to get himself a cup of tea. When he got to the kitchen, he paused, hearing Antonio moving about, probably looking for something with tomatoes in it again.

Was it that horrible to be around him?

He could feel the tears gather in his eyes, but he brushed them away quickly.

"Arthur?"

Arthur looked up, surprised to see Antonio standing in front of him, holding an apple. He choked out a sob, relief and a sudden sadness flooding him. He could feel himself crying. Antonio, probably very confused, ran up to him.

"Arthur, ¿Qué pasa?" He asked, switching into Spanish, and hugging him. Arthur never did reply.

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Antonio was _almost _surprised that night when someone dropped Arthur off, completely drunk. He couldn't even stand correctly. Antonio led Arthur to his bedroom, Arthur saying sentences that slurred together and were very hard for Antonio to figure out, considering how English was not his first language.

He laid Arthur down on his bed, and turned to leave, planning on going to bed himself, but, somehow in his drunken state, Arthur managed to grab his hand.

"Don't go," Arthur said, crying, "Please. You can't really hate me all that much. Please."

"I don't hate you," Antonio said as sat down on the side of the bed. Arthur clutched at Antonio's hand, refusing to let go. They sat there for a while, Antonio quietly pretending to listen to Arthur's drunken rants. All of a sudden, Arthur sat up, making Antonio jump in surprise. Arthur grabbed the front of Antonio's shirt with his free hand and pulled him into a kiss. Antonio froze, shocked.

"I love you," Arthur whispered to Antonio after pulling away. Antonio looked down at Arthur's hopeful green eyes, and shook his head.

"No you don't. You're just drunk."

Antonio pulled himself out of Arthur's grasp, ignoring the sobs that came from Arthur, and walked out of the room, closing the door quietly with a click.

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Arthur opened his eyes, and felt a head-splitting headache come on full force. He groaned and rolled over, closing his eyes tightly and willing himself to go to sleep. He stayed there, curled up in pain for a long time, before reopening his eyes. The headache was still there, and still pretty bad, but he figured that he really needed to get up. He sat up, ignoring that pain that ripped through him, and glanced over at his nightstand to see a note.

'_Dear Arthur,_

_I went to the market because we're completely out of food. I'm also planning on getting you something that might help with that headache that you're sure to be having right now. You were really drunk when you got home last night. I'll be back soon._

_Signed,_

_Antonio Fernandez Carriedo_'

Arthur sighed, and tried to think back to what happened last night. The headache worsened a bit, and all that he could remember was a strong smell. Antonio's.

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Antonio closed the door behind him and walked into the kitchen, setting the food down. Arthur was sitting at the table, a cup of tea next to him and he was holding his head.

"The only thing suggested to me to fix your hangover was more ale. But I'm not going to give you any."

"You enjoy torturing me, don't you?" Arthur snapped, taking a sip of tea.

"No, I just don't think that it'll work. But I got you some more tea. You really like that stuff, huh?"

Arthur would have nodded if he hadn't known that it would make his head hurt more than it already did. So he opted for the vocal response.

"Yes, I do."

There was silence for a little while before Arthur said,

"I'm going to plant my garden today. Oh, Queen Elizabeth says that she's talking to King Phillip about giving you back."

Antonio did not voice the question in his head.

_Is that why you were drinking? Do you mean what you said last night?_

"Que bien! I can't wait to get home. Not that it's not nice here; it'll be nice to be home."

"I'm sure."

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It had been a few months, and Antonio was _still_ at Arthur's house. Arthur was gone – off at court or something like that. Antonio was watering Arthur's garden, wondering vaguely if he was ever going to get home. He yawned, and looked down at the garden, realizing what some of the plants were. He smiled, silently thanking Arthur in his head.

He'd finally get his tomates again.

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Arthur finally came home about a week later, walking in during the evening. He looked tired, and slightly upset. He sat down next to Antonio, who was eating dinner.

"Hi Arthur, bienvenido a casa," Antonio said happily. He could tell that Arthur was upset, but he would not press him. Antonio knew that Arthur would tell him in time.

"Queen Elizabeth said… that you can go home now. You can go whenever you want, but I'd suggest tomorrow, when it's light again."

Antonio nodded.

"Thank you. It'll be nice to be home, and to see Lovinito again."

A dark look passed over Arthur's face, and Antonio knew that this was why he was upset.

"Why do you look so unhappy? This is good news. I'll finally stop being a problem for you."

A dark blush spread over Arthur's cheeks.

"You were never a problem!"

Every once and a while, Antonio was glad that he had a brother like Francis.

He leaned forward, feigning concern and said,

"Arthur, you're as red as a tomate. Are you sick?"

Arthur leaned away, shaking his head violently as his face turned redder.

"N-no, I'm not! I'm fine! J-just a bit tired! I'm going to bed."

He stood up, going to run off – probably to his study instead of his bed – but Antonio caught his shirt.

"At least have dinner first. You're probably very hungry."

As if on cue his stomach growled. Arthur, giving up even though all signs pointed to danger, grabbed some of the stew that Antonio had made and sat down again.

There was an awkward silence.

"So… What are you going to do when you get home?"

"I'm going to eat un tomate, take a siesta in the sun – It's very foggy and cloudy and rainy here, no offense – and catch Lovinito up in his Spanish."

Arthur put his spoon down, appetite gone.

"You really like South Italy, don't you?"

Antonio nodded.

"Sí, I'm very fond of him. He has his faults, but everyone does."

Arthur stood up again,

"I really should be going to bed."

"Was my stew that bad?"

Arthur paused, and sat back down, shaking his head,

"No, it's good!"

"Then finish it! You can sleep in tomorrow."

There was another silence.

"What's wrong? I can tell something's really bothering you."

Arthur mumbled something intelligible, his cheeks a flaming red.

"¿Qué?"

"I said, I don't want you to go home. I want you to stay here. With me."

Antonio leaned toward Arthur again.

"You like me that much?"

Arthur looked away, sighing quietly.

"Maybe."

"Then, ¿puedo besarte?"

"What?"

"Just say yes."

Arthur, eyeing him suspiciously, nodded once.

Antonio closed the space in between him and Arthur and gave him a peck on the cheek.

Arthur turned a bright red.

"Do you love me?" Antonio whispered in Arthur's ear. Arthur turned even redder, nodding.

"Yes."

Antonio smiled,

"I'm glad. I love you too."

Antonio stood up, grabbing his hand, and starting to drag him off.

"Where are we going?!" Arthur asked, alarmed by the sudden action. Antonio smirked in a way that looked oddly Francis-ish and replied with,

"I'm going to show you why I'm called the country of passion."

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Arthur awoke, wrapped in Antonio's arms. He sighed happily and snuggled closer to the Spaniard slowly. He didn't want Antonio to wake up. He'd have to go home. He must have moved too strangely though, because when Arthur looked back up at Antonio's face, two green eyes looked back at him sleepily.

"Buenos días, Arthur."

Arthur nodded, not exactly sure what Antonio had said, but guessing that it was 'good morning'.

"Good morning."

"I have to leave today."

Arthur nodded again, scowling.

"Don't worry, I'm sure I'll get to see you again, especialmente," He paused, "If you keep being a pirate. I'm not about to stop getting goods from the Américas."

"I wasn't about to stop being a pirate. I enjoy it. The only reason I haven't been able to go anywhere lately is because I had to make sure that you stayed here."

Antonio smiled softly, and asked,

"Will you miss me?"

"Of course."

"Good, because I don't know what I would do if I was the only one missing someone."

"You should probably get up."

Antonio stretched like a cat and got out of bed, retrieving his clothes from the floor and getting dressed. Arthur went to get out of bed as well and flinched when a sharp pain went through his back. Antonio had vanished down the hall to go get his stuff.

Arthur got dressed as well, and walked idly into his study. He looked down at his desk and remembered.

Those stupid letters.

Lovino would more than likely be wondering why Antonio had not answer and would demand an explanation out of him.

And Antonio could guess that Arthur had kept them from him. Arthur sighed and pulled out all the letters, arranging them neatly and imagining Antonio's reaction to getting them.

None of them were pleasant.

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Just when Antonio was about to get on the ship to leave, Arthur grabbed his arm and said,

"Wait a moment, Antonio."

Antonio paused, and gave Arthur a curious look. Arthur avoided Antonio's eyes and held forth the stack of letters. Antonio took them from Arthur, giving him a look that clearly asked him what this was about. Until he looked at the letters. He instantly recognized the handwriting that told him that the letter was to him. Antonio sighed and asked,

"Why did you keep these from me?"

Arthur looked down at his shoes, not wanting to answer.

"I guess… I was jealous."

"That I got all these letters from Lovinito?"

"No… That you gave South Italy so much attention. I mean, all those times I've captured you, he's all you ever talk about! 'I need to get home to see Lovinito.' I guess I just thought that maybe you loved him…"

Antonio laughed.

"I do love Lovinito, but he's my hermanito. I love him in a different way than I love you. Maybe someday when you get a little brother you'll understand."

Arthur nodded, and felt a little better when Antonio gave him a kiss before boarding.

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**Author's note**: Haha, so much to say about this.

First, some Historical background

Spain's King, King Phillip(The second, I think) was married to Queen Mary of England(Elizabeth's older sister). When Mary died and Elizabeth became queen, Phillip was so anxious to keep England Catholic (They had the Church of England as a result of Elizabeth's father, King Henry the 8th. You know, the one with all the wives?)

Elizabeth, being the uber-smart lady she was, acknowledged Phillip's proposal, but just kept him waiting... and waiting...

All the while she hired Pirates to raid Spanish ships returning from the Americas.

Smart, ne?

Also, from what I've read (Any British people can correct me if I'm wrong... -is an ignorant American-) Queen Elizabeth is England's most loved queen, so it would make sense if Arthur fell in love with her.

ALSO! (Almost done), The Spanish were eating tomatoes as early as the 1550's(England's Elizabethan era), but the British were suspicious and thought that tomatoes were poisonous.

Maybe Antonio can convince him otherwise. -winkwinknudgenudge-

(There _was_ a reason that Spain was called the country of passion. And no, I did not make that up. ;) )

So, that's all the historical background...

Now for the Spanish Translations…

Asno – As far as I know that means, um, sound it out. ;) It might not actually be Spanish from Spain though... –has no idea-

Posiblemente – This one should be easy to figure out. It's Possibly.

Italia del Sur – South Italy

Oye – Has the literal meaning of 'Listen', but is commonly used as 'Hey!'

¿Qué pasa? – I'm iffy on this one, but I'm pretty sure it means 'What is wrong?'

Qué bien! – That is good!

Tomate – If you look carefully throughout the fic you'll see that Antonio actually says Tomate – Which, if you're English, you know is spelled incorrectly. It's Spanish. For Tomato.

Bienvenido a casa – Welcome home.

Siesta - =_= Nap taken in the middle of the day.

Sí - =_= Yes

¿Qué? – What?

¿puedo besarte? – Can I kiss you? I'm not kidding. Antonio asked that. ;)

Buenos días – Good Morning

Especialmente – Especially

Américas – The accent over the e makes it Spanish! (Aka, Antonio just pronounced it weird…) It means Americas.

I have a hard time keeping Antonio-kun in character. I just can't believe he's _that_ thickheaded. AND he's Francis-san's brother, AND he had the nickname of the country of passion. He has to be _somewhat_ of a pervert. :)

-Matt in background- EXCUSES EXCUSES!

Anyway, SpainxEngland is not my favorite pairing, and this will probably be the only fanfic I write for them.

THAT IS ALL~


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